


Once we were Infinite

by Angelkissesanddemonsblood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Fighting, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sastiel - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelkissesanddemonsblood/pseuds/Angelkissesanddemonsblood
Summary: Sam writes a journal in Enochian, wanting only Castiel to be able to read its message whenever he returns to them. However Dean decides to translate it while Sam gets some much needed rest. Something so simple ends up being a grave mistake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SOME LINES WERE TAKEN FROM TUMBLR POSTS   
> I take requests, send them to my tumblr @angelkissesanddemonsblood  
> Thank you for all your views, kudos and comments they mean a lot!

**Dear reader, I wish I could tell you this story has a happy ending.**

 

“Heya Sammy, watcha up to?” the slang slid easily off Deans tongue.  If the tone was didn’t immediately indicate Deans mood, the glimmer in his green eyes did. Unfortunately, Sam didn’t hone the same levels of joy, his expression fell flat.

The bags under Sam’s eyes told Dean he hadn’t slept well, or at all. His eyes languidly took in Deans rested features, “Its Sam.”

“Yeah okay big guy, you’re gonna lie down and rest up,” Dean looked at the large book of lore in front of Sam and smacked his shoulder lovingly; “I’ll finish this.”

It was common place for the boys to have to help each other limp to bed. Though Sam’s leg wasn’t broken Dean still had to escort him. The way he’d swayed getting up was just a little too excessive for Dean not to be concerned. Dust kicked up from the floor where Sam dragged his feet, leaving a slight trail behind him. His fingers traced the bricks in the wall to prevent him from passing out right there in the hall. Eventually the harsh brick turned to cool wood. Sam recognised the smooth curve of it, each dent and cut in the wood. The handle creaked under the weight Sam pressed into it. He barely made it into the room before he was collapsing on the bed. Dean led him down with a chuckle, “Don’t act too awake Sammy, you might scare the rats.”

Sam grunted in response, the noise muffled by the pillows. His room was very plain, almost like he was unwilling to settle. Dean frowned to himself as he removed the other male’s boots and tucked him in. He pressed a kiss to his brother’s forehead. If Sam had been awake Dean wouldn’t have done it, but he wasn’t. He sat on the edge of Sam’s bed and ran his hand through Sam’s hair, enjoying the slight pull of the strands. Sam mumbled something in his slumber, a snore taking any resemblance of a statement from the articulation. Dean smiled down at Sam, “Love you Sammy, have a good nap.”

With a grunt Dean stood and left the room. Looking back at Sam sleeping peacefully he closed the door, ignoring the whine of the hinges and heading back down the hall. Dean slid into the seat Sam had been occupying previously. The pages felt soft under his calloused fingertips, which he realized were full of notes. Sam had left his journal there, the pages full of Enochian script. It was odd to see the symbols in his brother’s journal, considering neither of them were angels.

It dawned on him then that the notes weren’t strange; Sam was dealing with Castiels disappearance by learning his language.

He pulled over Sam’s letter translations and started to pick apart the message. After an hour of slaving over the very particular written language Dean could see what Sam had written.

_Cas, I know you probably can’t hear my prayers. But they are there. I don’t know where you are or why you left; I miss you. Dean has been dealing with this by drinking, not that it’s any different from the normal. Cas…_

_I miss the feeling of your hands, and how we used to stay up late into the night to research. I wish Dean would join me, but he gets drunk and passes out by eight. I love you both so much. I think my first ever steps were towards Dean, and my first ever word was “Bean” according to my dad. (I was trying to say Dean if that wasn’t clear.)_

_I hope you come home; I miss you and my brother._

_The voice in my head keeps telling me this is all my fault._

_It is._

_Sam_

 

Dean sucked in a breath and pushed the pages away from him. He knew Sam was sad, but not like this. Never like this. Dean could recall the times his brother had chosen him over their father, the word from their dad’s journal hung stiff in his mind, _“Sammy took his first steps yesterday. He walked towards Dean.”_

Dean was so entranced in thought that he didn’t see Sam renter the room, a small grunt escaping him.

“Dean?”

The man shot up and tried to hide his translation of Sam’s letter. Much to his dismay Sam could tell he’d been up to something, “Dean, what was that.”

Dean smiled awkwardly, “It was, uh, it’s nothin’ Sam, get any sleep?”

Sam pulled his face into an expression of no amusement, head tilting slightly in annoyance, “Don’t change the subject, what did you just hide?”

The taller male began to stride toward the table, glancing at what had been moved. He noticed his open journal and frowned, “You translated my private thoughts Dean, are you kidding me?!”

Dean frowned, looking down at the floor, “Well…”

He wanted to lie he really did, but instead he handed Sam the piece of paper with his reiteration of Sam’s entry. Sam snatched it and scowled, his brows furrowing, “I can’t believe you Dean.”

Nothing more was exchanged between them, with Sam going back to his room with the paper and his journal. Dean remained in place until he heard the click of a door. Anger and frustration bubbled up in him, causing him to send the pages on the table flying with the force of a shove, “Son of a bitch!”

Dean’s eyebrows dropped sadly, furrowing at the middle. His lips parted earnestly, breath raking harshly through him. He may have just hurt things again. Not knowing that he could stand another split between them Dean sat and rubbed his face, “Every damn time.”

That night Dean went to bed in the study of the bunker, head surrounded by stacks of books and notes in Sam’s handwriting. By morning, before the birds even began their lonely songs, Sam was gone. Leaving only a note and the impala behind as he slipped out the door. Dean woke to an empty house, Sam out on a case. Without Dean.

 


	2. Last Steps

The case seemed simple. Definitely a werewolf. Missing hearts and animal claw marks on the bodies indicated that to Sam. He drove into town in an old car left by the previous men of letters at the bunker. It was a black 1966 Dodge Charger, hardly any more notable on a street than the Impala was. Sam rolled up to the crime scene and stepped out of the car. He had already donned his suit and opened a small notepad. He moved towards the swarm of officers surrounding the area; hunted down the sheriff. Sam waited until the sheriff, Reginald, turned to face him, “Sheriff,” Sam pulled out his badge and showed it to Reginald.

“FBI? Why are the feds sending manpower out for some small-town animal attack?” Sam was used to that exact question at this point, and to lying in officers faces. After leaving Stanford these things had frightened Sam, but not anymore. He chuckled, “Just wanted me out here to help you with the case.”

Sheriff Reginald frowned and nodded, “Well, in that case. Logan was reported missing a few days ago by his mother. Said he was out at some high school party and that he was expected home by eleven on Saturday night.” Sam jotted the sheriff’s report on it down still listening as the older man continued, “Then he never showed. Found his body out here on the edge of town after a half day search.”

Sam nodded, “Happen to know where they’re keeping the body?”

“Uh, Queen Argentine North Memorial Hospital up in Nampa.”

“Thanks.” Sam replied, moving towards his car again. Sheriff Reginald’s voice came out from behind him again,

“Hey wait up kid!” Sam stopped; looked back at the officer and raised a brow. The officer kneeled over, holding his knees and panting, “We found this, dunno what it is but it was by the crime scene.” Reginald placed something hard and shining in Sam’s hand, a silver bullet. He nodded, saying his thanks to the officer and going on his way. He was in Nampa before the sun had set, renting out some low-down motel for the night. He settled in his bed with a groan, eyeing the silver bullet. Sam noticed a hole running through the top, realizing that he knew where the bullet had come from. Garth had worn a silver bullet around his neck the last time Sam saw him. This case was not so simple now that Garth might be involved.

The next day Sam got dressed in his suit again, slipping his badge in his breast pocket and heading out to the hospital. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and blue latex gloves on sat at the main desk. He tapped away at a computer, jotting down the occasional thing in the yellow patient folder beside him. Sam cleared his throat, bringing the man’s attention up to him. The white name tag pinned to the man’s uniform read Jaxon Connelly. Sam smiled, acting as if he cared to exchange pleasantries, “Hi,” he pulled out his badge to show the nurse, “I was wondering if I could see the body from the Logan Haltex case?”

Sam slipped the badge back in his pocket while Jaxon rang a forensic nurse to the table. Dark blonde hair turned the corner, the woman’s blue eyes focusing on Sam, “Here for the Haltex body?”

“Yes,” Sam wasn’t given even a moment to finish his thought as he was ushered down the hall by this short woman. They entered the morgue, the foul smell no different than Sam remembered. The nurse wheeled the body out of its place and pulled back the plastic sheeting. Beneath it lay a mangled body, all its defining traits stripped from it. This was a lot more than a missing heart and some claw marks, whoever killed this boy was dirty with their work. Even the eyes were just concave sockets in the head now. The nurse smacked gum Sam wasn’t aware she was chewing, “Sure that sheriff ‘ready told ya’ that this boy was mauled by some animal. I didn’t know better I’d say kid was torn apart by some timber wolves.”

He frowned, “Seems a bit odd how mauled most of the body is, but the upper torso is still full intact except for the missing heart.”

The nurse, Angie as her tag said, shrugged, “Got everythin’ ya need mista?”

“Sam, my name is Sam. And yes. I think that’s all I need.” Sam held up his finger not moments after saying it, pulling a silver bullet from the cavity where the heart had once been. He looked at the girl, then swiveled the item around, finding a hole in the top. Sam thanked Angie and Jaxon as he left, heading back to his motel room.

He thought he was going to be able to dive head first into the case, but after turning on a news channel he realized he wouldn’t have to. **Couple found dead, police believe double suicide pact.**

There on the screen were the faces of Garth and his wife. Sam decided to head home that night, thinking it was time to talk to Dean about everything. He had just entered the bunker when Cas came rushing at him. His face took to a confused look at the now present angel. Sam wondered for a moment if Cas had come because he was gone before the angel spoke up, “Sam, you’re here.”

Castiel turned to start walking down the hall, Sam took the motion as a beckoning to follow. Letting himself be led into the depth of the bunker, Sam found that the air seemed thick with tension, his brother sat in the main area of the bunker, legs up on the table. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on now Cas?” Dean commented from his seat at the bunker table, “Or me and Sam, great timing Sammy.”

The sarcasm in Deans tone struck Sam like a slap, he frowned, “Sorry Dean.”

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

“Stop, this is important,” Cas looked at them lowly, “The ranks of heaven are coming to destroy me. I’m going to go somewhere far from here so that you lives may be spared-”

Sam cut him off, “No.”

Dean looked at Sam, he hated to admit it right now but the tone of Sam’s voice left a hole in his heart. It was soft and pleading and he couldn’t help but forgive the other for walking out on him. Dean decided if they died today, he wanted it to be a forgiven ending. He wanted to still see Sam in his heaven, “I agree Cas.”

Castiel stood in silence, pain he had not felt since he had falling pressing against his lungs.

Sam looked to Dean and smiled sadly, at some point in the years of near deaths and full deaths Sam’s thoughts on life had changed. Maybe once he’d thought they were infinite. Now though, he wanted them to end how they always should have, together. He gripped Cas’ hand as the bunkers red warning lights began to flare, “We go out together.” As he got closer to Dean, the massacre began. _Sammy took his last steps that day. He walked towards Dean._

 

_**Dear Reader, I wish I could tell you this story has a happy ending. But these kinds of stories never do.** _


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